


Hunted

by NetRaptor



Series: Destiny and Destiny 2 stories [9]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Ghost with a gun, Hunters & Hunting, One-Sided Relationship, Revenge, Warbeasts tear people apart, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NetRaptor/pseuds/NetRaptor
Summary: When Madrid the Hunter goes on a winter patrol, he and his ghost Rose happen across a fallen Guardian and a ghost barely clinging to life. They were victims of an expert Cabal hunter and his pack of war beasts. Madrid begins hunting … but this foe may prove a match even for a Guardian.





	1. Chapter 1

The snow fell in a solid curtain outside the cave mouth, piling in soft drifts across the rocks. It blocked the light from the flickering campfire far back inside, where a lone Hunter had set up a small camp. He sat on his sleeping bag, cross-legged, his yellow eyes glowing in the dimness. He was of the Awoken race, humans with skin tinted blue, energy racing through their veins.

A spool of gleaming wire filled his lap. He cut short lengths and bent them into shape with a small pair of pliers, twisting them together in pretty, jewelry-like designs.

His ghost floated nearby, warming herself by the fire. She was a small robot in an intricate, rose-patterned shell, her blue eye blinking from its center.

"Madrid, you don't have to make me a new shell," she ventured after a while. "This one is already beautiful."

"But this one is a lotus blossom, Rose," Madrid replied, weaving together more wires. "Besides, this wire is in too good of condition to waste. Sturdy stainless steel. No idea where those Fallen found it."

Madrid was on a supply patrol, meaning he tracked the spider-like aliens through the mountains and stole back the goods they had scavenged from wrecked human cities. As winter approached the Last City, more and more Hunters were being dispatched on patrols, looking for enough supplies to help the City survive. At these altitudes, hundreds of miles from the City, winter had already arrived, and it was only October.

Rose knew all this and accepted it. She watched her Guardian build her a new shell with vague interest. "Why must you make new shells all the time?"

He gave her a quick smile. "Don't you like them?"

"Yes, of course. But ... it seems too much, sometimes. The shells, the constant care ... I have three different beds at home."

Madrid twisted two wires together. "Are you saying you'd rather I neglect you?"

"No ..." Rose looked down, trying to frame her thoughts in a way that wouldn't hurt his feelings. "I only wish you'd let me heal you sometimes."

His smile returned. "I rarely let an enemy land a hit, Rosie. It's why I'm the best." This wasn't a boast, but a statement of fact. Madrid was one of the top-ranked Hunters in the Vanguard, with more patrols and salvages clocked than any other Hunter.

"I know," Rose said, proud of her Guardian, yet miserable at the same time. "You haven't been hurt by a thing in three months. It makes me feel useless."

"You're not useless," Madrid reassured her. "You're my closest friend. I'd lose my mind out here without you to talk to."

This was little comfort. A ghost's duty was to support their Guardian, and the act of sharing Light in a healing or resurrection bonded them. Rose couldn't articulate this. All she knew was that she desperately wanted to be needed. And she wasn't.

Madrid went on working, designing yet another beautiful shell that did nothing to appease the void in Rose's heart. To pass the time, she flew to the mouth of the cave and scanned the hillside, checking the snow level and atmospheric data. Already eleven inches had fallen, and the storm had barely begun.

An object appeared at the far edge of her scan - a tiny blur of static. Rose focused on it and narrowed her scan. An enemy? An animal?

A voice reached her, faint and full of static. "A ghost? Oh, please help me! I can't - and the snow -"

The voice of a dying ghost - it sent a wave of panic through her. Rose zipped back to Madrid. "Guardian, there's another ghost out there, and she's asking for help. Her spark is nearly gone."

Madrid set aside the wire and tools and pulled on his thick cloak. He picked up a long-barreled scout rifle from where he'd leaned it against the cave wall. "Lead the way."

Rose led him out of the cave into the blinding, whirling snow. Even with her flashlight beam, they could barely see. Madrid stumbled on the stones beneath the soft snow, slid ten feet, and stopped himself by digging the rifle butt into the ground. Rose checked him for injuries out of habit, but of course he was unhurt.

The other ghost's signal was far down the hill, where the forest began. Rose tracked it and flew in spirals until she found the exact spot where it came from. But there was nothing there but featureless snow.

"Here," Rose said, highlighting the spot with her light. "Dig gently."

Madrid plunged his gloved hands into the snow, pawing it aside and looking carefully into the hole. Nearly a foot down, he uncovered the star-shaped shell of another ghost. Her eye flickered on and gazed up at them, terrified.

"It's all right," Rose reassured her. "This is Madrid, my Guardian, and I'm Rose."

Madrid scooped up the ghost and brushed snow off her shell and eye. "Hello, little light. Where's your Guardian?"

"He killed him," the ghost said. "Then he threw me to his dogs. I can't ... I can't feel my Guardian's spark anymore."

Madrid and Rose exchanged a quick, worried glance.

"Let's get you back to camp," Madrid said. Sheltering the injured ghost under his cloak, he climbed back up the hill, his rifle ready in his other hand.

Paranoid, Rose scanned and scanned again, but they were the only living things out in such a snowstorm.

The firelight revealed the extent of the injured ghost's damage. Her shell was badly bent, with teeth marks scoring and puncturing the metal in many places. Her eye-lens was cracked and distorted.

Madrid silently set the ghost on his sleeping bag near the fire and opened his knapsack.

"You poor thing," Rose said, hovering above the injured ghost. She swept her with a healing beam, mending the crushed components, the damaged eye, the many little injuries that leaked Light like blood. But she couldn't fix the shell.

"Thank you," whispered the ghost. "I'm Zoe. My Guardian is Dustin, a Hunter. Have you seen him?"

"Dustin?" Madrid said. "He was dispatched the same time I was. Wasn't he stalking moose?"

"Yes," Zoe said proudly. "We took three. I transmatted them home, myself."

Madrid shook his head. "We haven't seen anyone except a band of Fallen, about ten miles east of here." He produced a small toolbox for ghost maintenance. From inside, he lifted the parts that composed a spare shell - dark green camouflage.

Zoe studied Madrid and Rose. "I think I remember you. Madrid, the Hunter ... but I don't think I've ever met you," she added to Rose.

Rose looked away.

"Shy," Madrid said. He gently lifted Zoe and set to work removing her mangled shell.

Zoe closed her eye and let him work. "There's a single Cabal hunter with a pack of war beasts. I think he was supposed to hunt Guardians during the Red War, but he's abandoned his legion. All he does is hunt people - Fallen, humans, Guardians, he doesn't care."

"And he found Dustin?" Madrid said, struggling with a warped screw.

"Five days ago," Zoe said, "we had tracked a moose herd to this side of the mountains. But we weren't the only ones hunting them. This Cabal hunter picked up our trail. At first, Dustin laughed. It was only one guy and his war beasts. But the Cabal trapped us in a blind canyon. He held back his beasts until Dustin had exhausted his super charge, trying to shoot down the Cabal. Dustin is an excellent shot, and he couldn't hit this guy. Then, when he was weak, the Cabal shot his legs and turned the war beasts on him. I tried to heal him, but he was already dead. Then I tried to resurrect him." Her voice broke. It was a long moment before she could continue. "The alien grabbed me out of the air. He laughed and threw me to his beasts. They chewed me, but ... but not very well. My shell's shape wasn't easy to bite. I tried to phase, but the first bite cracked something, and I couldn't. They carried me for miles. One beast would drop me and another would pick me up." Her voice shook.

Rose gazed at the awful teeth marks in each segment of Zoe's shell as Madrid detached them. "How did you survive?"

"I don't know," Zoe whispered. "Just thinking about it scares me so bad. I'll never be able to stand war beasts again. The sounds they make ... and their teeth ..."

"Hush, now," Madrid told her. "Let me repair you, then you can rest. Once this storm lets up, we'll go find Dustin."

"I can't feel his spark," Zoe whispered. "I can't feel it at all."

Rose watched her Guardian's hands deftly attach the new shell to the injured ghost, her heart aching with pity. What a horrible thing to endure. But deep down, Rose was confident that it could never happen to her Guardian. Not Madrid. He was too good.

But being unable to feel her Guardian's spark ... that was serious. The spark, the living soul of a Guardian, didn't last long after death. Most ghosts resurrected them within a few minutes or hours. Would Dustin's spark have persisted for five days, or longer? Rose doubted it.

She gazed at Zoe with new sorrow. Zoe might be a severed ghost - a ghost who had lost her Guardian. Sometimes they bonded to a new person and infused them with Light, creating a new Guardian. But most often, the lonely ghost simply returned to the Traveler, broken by grief, and merged back into the Great Consciousness.

Madrid attached the new shell, then let Rose inspect it to make sure everything was attached correctly. When she nodded, he released Zoe. "Can you fly?"

The ghost floated into the air in her new camouflage shell. "I feel ... I feel so much better. Thank you both very much. But now, I ..."

Madrid caught her before she could zip out of the cave. "Don't go out there, Zoe. Tomorrow you can lead us to your Guardian. Don't go alone."

"But his spark," she whispered urgently, blinking at him from between his fingers.

"Zoe," Madrid said very gently, "it's been five days."

He released the ghost. She floated there for a moment, then dropped down, landed on the sleeping bag, and stared into the fire.

Madrid put away his supplies, then pulled out the particular soft blanket where Rose slept. He made her a nest beside his pillow.

Rose settled into it. "Zoe? Would you like to sleep here?"

Zoe flew over and landed beside Rose without a word. Madrid rolled himself in his sleeping bag and was soon asleep.

"Do you sleep in a bed like this every night?" Zoe asked silently, using the Light-powered network that all ghosts shared.

"Only while on patrols," Rose replied. "I have much nicer ones at home."

Zoe blinked. "No ... I mean, why don't you phase and sleep with your Guardian?"

"I used to," Rose said sadly. "A long time ago, when he was still a young Guardian. He needed me, then. But not anymore."

Zoe drew her shell down in a puzzled expression. "You don't love him?"

"He's almost never injured," Rose said. "And he never dies. So I'm just ... here. I don't do much."

Zoe gazed at Madrid, then Rose. "I wondered why the Light you shared was so cold. I was afraid I'd been rescued by a corrupted Guardian."

"He's not corrupted," Rose said indignantly. "Neither am I."

"Of course not," Zoe said hurriedly. "I sense no Darkness from either of you. Your Light is just ... cold."

Rose didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing.

After a while, Zoe's eye blinked off as she fell into an exhausted sleep. But Rose remained awake, watching the cave mouth, thinking of war beasts, and wondering about cold Light.


	2. Trail

The hunter and two ghosts set out at daybreak the next morning. The snow had stopped, but the clouds were low and heavy, promising more.

Madrid trekked over the soft snow on a pair of homemade snowshoes. A hunter had found the design years ago in Golden Age archives, and all Hunters had used them ever since.

Zoe flew ahead, scanning, tracking her own data back toward where her Guardian had fallen. Rose remained phased inside Madrid's armor. Not only was it warmer, but she kept up a constant area scan for enemies.

The snow resumed falling at noon, wrapping the mountains and forests in a silent veil of swirling white. Madrid pressed onward, undeterred, following the bereaved ghost. She led them down into a narrow valley, across a frozen lake, then up a ridge to a rocky canyon on the far side.

As they entered the canyon, Madrid and Rose looked around uneasily. What a bad place to be pinned down. The walls were too high to climb, and there were many curves and nooks where enemies could lie hidden. But it was empty and silent under the falling snow.

"If it took five days for the war beasts to drop Zoe," Rose said privately to Madrid, "how did we get here so fast?"

"I think the Cabal hunter took a much more roundabout route," Madrid thought. "She did say that they didn't cross the lake, for instance."

Knowing the massive weight of most Cabal warriors - the Vanguard called them space rhinos - Rose wasn't surprised.

Zoe led them to a hump in the snow and flew around it, whimpering. Madrid set to work digging. Soon he unearthed the remains of another Guardian, the corpse frozen and scattered by scavengers. There wasn't much left but a few bones and bits of clothing.

"No cloak," Rose muttered. "Did the alien take his cloak?"

It was Hunter tradition that when one died, their cloak was taken as a symbolic mantle by their nearest companion Hunter. The very idea that the renegade alien had taken it made Rose fiercely angry. Madrid's anger was quieter, deeper, but she felt it, too.

Zoe flew back and forth over her Guardian's remains, making an awful, grieved keening sound. "No spark, no spark, Dustin, why didn't you wait for me? Dustin, Dustin ..."

Rose phased into reality and joined her sister ghost in scanning the dead man. She couldn't bear to see Zoe suffer without at least confirming the spark was gone. She flew close to the rib cage, scanning in a tight, focused beam.

The tiniest remnant of Light flickered there.

"Zoe," Rose exclaimed. "Is this his spark?"

Zoe zipped down beside her and scanned, too. "I think - I think it is. Dustin!"

Then Zoe did something Rose had never seen before. She phased, converting to pure energy, and embraced the flickering remnant of her Guardian's spark. Her own Light passed into his, strengthening his spark, brightening it.

Zoe phased back into being and opened her shell, expanding into a sphere of blue light that turned the nearby snowflakes into bright confetti. She poured resurrection Light into her Guardian, rebuilding his body, cell by cell, layer by layer. Then she called his spark back to life.

Rose watched, sensing the strong bond between ghost and guardian, and trying not to feel jealous.

Dustin sat up in the snow, bewildered. He was a human with brown skin, clad in the woven bodysuit ghosts dressed their Guardians in by default. "Zoe? What happened? Where are my clothes?"

His heavy, warm gear lay around him in shreds.

Zoe phased into him and vanished, telling him the whole story through their personal link. Dustin looked sharply at Madrid and Rose as he climbed to his feet. Then he turned in a slow circle, gazing at the rock walls through the snow.

Madrid extended a hand. "Guardian Dustin."

"Guardian Madrid." Dustin shook hands. "My ghost tells me I've been dead for six days. I think it's a new record. Seen any Cabal?"

"Nothing but game. Here, you need these." Madrid dig into his knapsack and handed Dustin a set of heavy winter clothing.

Dustin put them on as quickly as he could. "Thanks. I'm not wild about dying of exposure over and over. Where're you headed?"

They talked patrol routes and trail conditions. Dustin had been stalking a herd of elk when the Cabal Hunter caught him. The animals were long gone, and Dustin should have returned to the Last City two days ago.

"Not sure I'm headed back yet," he growled. "I've got a score to settle with the rhino. He threw my ghost to his dogs. His _dogs_!"

Apparently, Zoe had told him a lot more than she had Rose and Madrid. But what passed between a ghost and Guardian was highly personal, not often discussed.

"It worries me, too," Madrid said. "He'll keep killing Hunter after Hunter if we don't stop him. I didn't see any sign on the way up, but the snow's falling pretty fast. Here, my ghost can send you our next patrol checkpoints. I've got some satellite data on Fallen caches that I need to check out. If we spread out, maybe we can catch this rhino. Got a gun?"

Dustin had nothing - the Cabal hunter had taken his weapons and gear. Madrid handed him his extra rifle, six boxes of ammunition, and assorted bundles of food wrapped in a spare blanket. Dustin's wilderness backpack was missing, too.

"Asshole took my cloak," Dustin snarled. "I want it back."

The Guardians hiked out of the canyon, then parted ways. Madrid followed the ridge, while Dustin set off along the Cabal hunter's trail, guided by his ghost's instructions.

Madrid and Rose hiked in silence until the ridge climbed to a jagged rock formation that blocked further travel. As they climbed, the wind picked up, driving the snow into Madrid's face. The temperature dropped. It was late afternoon, and the snowstorm was becoming a blizzard.

Rose scanned for shelter. No caves or convenient crevices appeared on her radar. "We'll have to find shelter lower down. There's a stand of trees to our right."

Madrid halted, adjusting the scarf that shielded his nose and mouth. Ice crystals encrusted the fabric. "Any life signs?"

Rose ran a high-resolution scan. "Several animal burrows with creatures inside. Birds in the trees. And ... something odd. An old campsite under the trees, maybe."

Madrid picked his way down the slope, his snowshoes sliding a little in the soft snow. As it grew colder, the heavier, wetter snow was being overlaid by a layer of fine, sandy powder. The long night would be bitterly cold.

After a while, they reached the trees at the foot of the ridge. They grew in a fold in the hills, too narrow to be a valley. A frozen stream ran through the trees, a faint trickling noise under the ice the only evidence of water.

Rose guided Madrid to the old camp. Several huge pines grew so close together, their tangled branches had prevented the snow from reaching the ground. Here, it was still bare earth and pine needles. They found an old fire pit with ash and a few charred logs. Madrid moved carefully, studying the ground.

Rose could detect objects, but the science of studying nature and reading the subtle clues it offered eluded her. She rode along with Madrid, trying to discern footprints in the ground. She saw only shallow impressions in the leaf litter.

Madrid kicked an object free of the leaves. A large bone, picked clean, and scored with tooth marks. There were plenty more, scattered and half-buried.

"Deer," Madrid said. "Chewed by war beasts. Look at the bite patterns - large teeth, far apart."

A shiver passed through Rose. "This was the Cabal hunter's camp?"

"He was here about a week ago," Madrid said. "Camped with his dogs. Probably the day he killed Dustin."

Rose gazed at the bones, imagining the huge, scaly beasts gnawing, growling, snapping at each other ... and one chewing a helpless ghost.

Madrid pulled out a pocket compass and walked the camp's perimeter, studying the ground, placing each boot carefully. He stopped and took a compass reading. "He set out northwest. If his dogs dropped Zoe near our camp, we must have been within a day of him and never knew it."

Rose shuddered.

"Relay a message to Zoe," Madrid said. "Found Cabal hunter's camp from a week ago. Headed northwest. Be cautious."

Rose sent the message. Zoe was only a few miles away and received it immediately.

After a moment, she sent back Dustin's reply. "Can't see a thing in this storm. Going to ground for the night. Watch your back. His trail moves in spirals."

"Spirals," Madrid muttered, gazing at the sheltering trees. "Or a search pattern." He stood there a moment in thought. "We'd better not stay here. Hunters return to known campsites. Even aliens."

"We couldn't make it to the cave before nightfall," Rose said. "We'll find another spot. You walk, I'll scan."

"We need decent shelter from the wind," Madrid told her, following the fold in the land downhill. "This blizzard is getting worse. It'll be twenty below tonight."

That kind of cold would kill a man in his sleep, if he dared close his eyes at all. Rose analyzed the landscape as they traveled. The clouds blocked the setting sun and the world became a dim twilight of wind and whirling snow.

At last her scans detected a decent spot. "Bear left," she said. "There's a sheltered dell at the foot of those cliffs."

Mostly blinded by the snow, Madrid followed her instructions and picked his way downhill. The cliffs blocked the wind, so visibility increased as they entered a tiny valley, merely a scoop out of the mountainside. Years ago, an enormous tree had toppled, tearing open a hole in the ground. Its roots still towered into the sky, nearly as tall as the lesser trees around them.

Madrid surveyed the spot and grunted his approval. He set about breaking dead wood off the roots and piling them in a clear spot to build a campfire. Once he had it burning, he pitched a tiny, weatherproof tent under the shelter of the roots.

"Watch for hostiles," he told Rose as he heated water to pour over a pack of dried soup. "The storm will hide the campfire smoke from sight, but a good Hunter will still smell it."

Rose nervously watched the area, but nothing appeared. Madrid ate his dinner, then crawled into the tent and wrapped himself in his sleeping bag, boots and all. "Phase tonight," he told Rose. "It's too cold for you to sleep alone."

He hadn't invited her to do that in years. Rose phased into him, leaving the biting cold behind. She wasn't really inside him - she occupied the same space as he did, but in a higher dimension - but his spark was there. She nestled as close as she dared and allowed herself a few hours' sleep. But she woke herself up before midnight to keep watch.

* * *

Cabal Hunter Tel'ur sat under a rock overhang, watching the snow fall and sharpening his hunting blade. Nearby, his five war beasts snarled and growled at each other, fighting over the remains of their meal - an unfortunate antelope Tel'ur had shot at long range.

Tel'ur had once been a lowly Legionary - just one more grunt in the great army of the Red Legion. He had taken the assignment to hunt lightless Guardians during the Red War. After all, he was good with war beasts, and picking off helpless Guardians sounded like an easy job.

But once he was out in the wilds, far from his legion and commanding officers, he realized he had a talent for hunting. Helpless Guardians were too easy a prey - he pitted himself against deer, first for food, then for sport. He stalked elk, moose, bears, wild cats, wolves, anything his war beasts could track. At first, his excuse was that he needed food for his beasts. But even after the Great Machine resumed operating and gave Light back to the Guardians, Tel'ur remained in the wilderness. It was too easy to ignore the order to fall back to Mars. His commanders marked him among the dead.

Now Tel'ur had a real challenge: hunting Guardians who possessed their Light. It took much cunning, figuring out how to force their ghosts to manifest, making themselves vulnerable to a bullet or a crunching jaw. The first time Tel'ur brought down a Guardian Hunter, he had howled his triumph to the hills. His blood had raced with adrenaline for hours afterward.

Three more Hunters fell, sometimes caught in traps, sometimes driven into dead-end canyons they couldn't escape. Tel'ur took great amusement in watching his war beasts destroy their ghosts. It seemed a fitting end, the mythical Guardians of the Traveler brought low by mere animals.

The blizzard had driven him into shelter. He had explored these mountains so often, he knew every ideal camp within fifty miles. He also knew where the Fallen hid the supplies they stole from the humans. He helped himself to their food stores whenever he grew tired of meat.

Guardian Hunters sought out the Fallen, so by knowing the location of the prey, he could stalk the predator.

As he sat there, his leathery, frog-like face exposed to the biting wind, the faintest aroma of wood smoke touched his nostrils. Tel'ur inhaled it, letting the wind erase it and bring more. A campfire. Judging by the faintness of the scent, the fire was a mile away, perhaps two. Certainly no more than five.

Tel'ur smiled, baring pointed teeth. He was too wise in the way of the mountains to risk a hunt in a blizzard at night. But when the storm ended, the unmarked snow would show the tracks of every creature, from tiny field mice, to birds ... to Guardians.


	3. Prey

When Madrid awoke and poked his head out of his sleeping bag, the inside of the tent was lined with frost. He pushed back the blanket. Cold bit through his cloak and clothing.

"News?" he thought to Rose.

"No enemies," she reported from her phased state. "Zoe kept in touch during the night. She and Dustin are preparing to set out."

Madrid opened his pack, pulled out a package of jerky and dried fruit, now frozen solid. He breathed on them to thaw them before eating. A hot cup of chicory tea sounded great right now, but judging by the wedge of sunlight across his tent's wall, it was clear outside. A fire's smoke would be visible for miles. He contented himself with a cold breakfast.

"I have a question, Guardian," Rose said timidly.

"Ask," Madrid thought.

"Well ..." his ghost hesitated. "Zoe told me that our Light is cold."

"Our Light?" Madrid replied. "Light doesn't change temperatures."

"I know, but that's what she said. She thought we were corrupted. I wondered if you knew what it meant."

Madrid turned this bizarre concept around in his mind. Cold Light? It made no sense. He was a powerful Guardian, able to summon a gun made of pure, fiery Light that killed any foe. His ghost was efficient and highly intelligent. He had no interest in the Darkness or its teachings, and avoided it except when killing its servants.

"Sounds like a question for a warlock," Madrid said. "Theoretical ghost stuff. Zoe was badly injured, remember. She may not have been thinking clearly."

"That's true." Rose sounded dissatisfied, but sighed in resignation. "I'll try asking Kari and Jayesh when we return to the City."

Madrid emerged from the tent to a world of blinding white. The sun glittered on the snow. He pulled on a helmet with a set of dark goggles, then struck camp.

"We're going to leave tracks," Rose observed.

"I'll conceal our trail as much as possible," Madrid assured her. When he set out on his snowshoes, he kept to the cover of the trees for a couple of miles, pausing often to examine the snow for signs of war beasts.

His ghost was unhappy. The thought nagged at the back of his mind. Why was Rose unhappy? He gave her the best care he could, pampering her with unique shells and comfortable beds. He carried a deep affection for her in his heart. Trying to avoid being hurt, and thus making her use her Light, had been one way he tried to alleviate her workload.

"Rose," he thought, "why are you unhappy?"

She was silent for a long moment. "I don't know."

"Am I a poor Guardian for you?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "You're wonderful, Madrid. You're the best Guardian."

"Well then," Madrid thought, bewildered. "What is there to be unhappy about?"

"I don't know," Rose said softly. "I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't said anything."

She was more than unhappy - she was miserable. Madrid hiked on in growing discontent. What more could he do for her? She was his ghost, for the Traveler's sake. They practically shared a soul. If half of his soul was unhappy, he needed to find out why. But how could he find out if she didn't understand, herself?

Busy with these dismal thoughts, he reached the foot of the mountain where they had found Zoe. The sun was high by now, and the glare on the white snow would have blinded him without goggles. As Madrid halted for a rest and another meal of dried meat and fruit, Rose relayed a message from Dustin. "I've got visual."

Madrid straightened, a jolt of adrenaline surging through him. "Where?"

"Zoe's sending coordinates."

Rose displayed a map in Madrid's heads-up display in his goggles. Madrid was flagged as a green dot near the spine-like shape of a mountain seen from above. Dustin was another green dot south of them. Near Dustin, crossing a wide valley floor, was a tight group of six hostiles flagged in red.

Madrid pulled out his scout rifle and checked the magazine. Full. Then he circled until he could watch his back trail. The Cabal hunter might find his tracks if he continued on into the trees.

Rose scanned as far as she could reach, but their enemies were out of range. She pinged Zoe, who sent her updated coordinates. The Cabal hunter had swung east, angling away from Madrid and heading toward Dustin.

Madrid swore under his breath. Then he scrambled up the mountainside, trying to find a clear vantage point. Two hundred feet up, he stepped onto a snowy boulder and scanned the hills and woods through his scope.

Nothing moved. Madrid whispered, "Update?"

Rose pinged Zoe. No reply. She waited a moment, then pinged her again. "She's not answering."

Madrid cursed again. "Dustin's caught in the spiral."

A gunshot rang out, echoing off the mountain peaks. Then two more in quick succession. Zoe screamed over Rose's connection.

Silence fell.

Madrid and Rose waited, frozen in suspense, watching the motionless landscape. Then Rose whispered, "There."

Madrid looked through his scope. The bulky shape of a Cabal soldier walked out of the trees a mile away, surrounded by a pack of war beasts. They crossed a clearing and vanished into a stand of trees that Madrid had passed through that morning.

"They'll pick up our trail," he muttered.

"Do we run?" Rose asked.

Madrid smiled. "No. We wait."

* * *

Tel'ur stomped through the snow, growling to himself. He had shot the Guardian, but missed the ghost. Both of them had escaped as the Guardian made a suicidal leap into a ravine. Not that any fool move was suicidal for a Guardian. He'd heard of their ghosts reviving them after being depressurized in pure vacuum in wrecked space ships.

His beasts sniffed the snow, eager for a new trail to follow. As they entered the trees, his lead beast made an excited, chewing-growling sound.

Tel'ur surveyed the snow. It had been disturbed by the wide, flat nets humans strapped to their feet to keep from sinking. The Guardian he had seen had no such equipment. Here was the trail of a second Hunter.

"Track," he told his beasts. All of them immediately devoured the snow in great mouthfuls, ingesting the scent.

"Hunt," he said.

The beasts strained at the leashes wrapped around Tel'ur's arm. He let them tug him along, following the trail with his eyes. This Hunter had stayed among the trees, treading lightly, trying to leave as little trail as possible. He must know of Tel'ur's presence.

Two Guardians. Could he kill two Guardians? They would assist each other, positioning to flank him in a fight. He would have to out-think them both. If he could destroy one, then the other would be that much weaker.

He followed the trail toward the foot of a mountain, but halted and examined the hillside with his lenses. If he were that Guardian, he would seek out a high vantage point and snipe his enemies. High ground was the stronger position.

Sure enough, Tel'ur spotted the head and shoulders of a Guardian Hunter, nearly hidden behind a rock, steadying a rifle with a scope, gazing at the trees, waiting. He hadn't seen Tel'ur yet. He must be waiting for Tel'ur to break cover, giving him a clear shot.

"Down," he told his beasts. "Retreat."

They whined their protest. War beasts hated to abandon a hunt after tasting the scent of prey.

Leading his reluctant beasts, Tel'ur turned away and followed the tree line northward.

* * *

Madrid and Rose waited for the alien to emerge from the trees and pursue them up the mountainside. The growling of the war beasts carried up to them, hideous and barbaric. But they never appeared. Instead, the beasts fell silent. A flicker of motion among the trees moved on up the valley.

Madrid relaxed his grip on his rifle. "He's smart. He knew I was waiting."

"I've got him on scan," Rose said. "He's headed away from us. What's his plan?"

"Probably to double back and ambush us after dark." Madrid thought for a while. "Anything from Dustin?"

Rose pinged Zoe. She pinged back, affirming that she was alive, but said nothing.

"She responded," Rose reported. "If Zoe's alive, so is Dustin."

"Good," Madrid said in relief. "Display the map, please."

Rose called up the satellite map on his HUD. Madrid studied it for a long time.

"Nightfall puts us at the biggest disadvantage," he said at last. "His beasts can hunt by scent. I have to assume that he'll find any trail I lay down. Tonight will be a cold, uncomfortable one, I'm afraid."

"What's our destination?" Rose asked.

Madrid gazed steadily at a mountain spur a few miles away. Rose tracked his eye movement and flagged the spot.

"High ground wins in this game," Madrid said. He shouldered his rifle and descended the mountainside. "Send Zoe our destination and inform her of the alien's direction. Dustin needs to know."

Rose did. After several minutes, Zoe replied in a whisper, "The Cabal hunter injured my Guardian, and he killed himself trying to escape. I've resurrected him, but he's spent and sleeping right now. Keep me posted."

Rose told Madrid this. He nodded and kept walking, but his teeth clenched until a vein stood out in his temple. Resurrection or not, Madrid hated it when his friends were killed.

Rose reflected on this as they traveled. Her Guardian was a professional hunter, but he was far from invincible. Anger might cause him to make mistakes ... and in a chase like this, mistakes could be costly. She tried not to think of the crushing teeth of the war beasts. No, she had to focus, help him outwit their foe.

Perhaps it was because both their lives were at stake, but Rose warmed a little toward her Guardian. He would not fail, not while she still had a flicker of Light within her.

* * *

They reached the mountain spur as the sun was settling behind the western peaks. This was a high, rocky hill among lesser hills. Each fold in the land around it was filled with trees, making ideal cover for game and hunters.

Madrid climbed the hill, using his Light powers to jump ten feet straight up. This helped in scaling rock outcroppings, now slippery with snow that had melted and refrozen. He reached the topmost rock and settled down with his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his rifle in his lap.

It would have been a perfect sniper post in the daylight. But a cold, clear night settled in and the temperature plunged. Worse, a wind began to blow, funneled down the valley.

Madrid began to shiver as the cold pierced his clothing. But he didn't abandon his perch until his hands were too numb to work a trigger.

"If you freeze to death," Rose said hesitantly, "resurrecting you won't provide fire and shelter."

"I have no intention of dying of hypothermia once an hour," Madrid thought. He couldn't speak aloud - his jaws were clenched to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'll have to let you be my eyes and ears tonight."

He clumsily climbed down the hill into the leeward side, where the wind was cut off. There he pushed and kicked snow until he had made himself a nest against the foot of the rocks, with the snow as an extra barricade against prying eyes. He unrolled his sleeping bag on an insulated sheet, wrapped himself in it, and tried to get warm.

The exercise had stirred his blood, so for a while, feeling returned to his hands and feet. He fell asleep.

Rose stayed awake. As a ghost, she didn't technically need sleep, although she could if she wanted. The cold didn't touch her in her phased state. She kept an area scan running. On such a silent, frozen night as this, any sound would carry for miles, so she listened for movement or war beast growls.

As the hours passed, however, a new worry presented itself. Madrid's core temperature was dropping. Very slowly, perhaps a tenth of a degree per hour, but he was at ninety-eight point six. Then point five. Then point four.

"Guardian," she whispered into his mind. "Madrid, wake up. You're freezing to death."

It took a long time to rouse him, but finally he groaned and stirred. As he awoke, he became aware of the penetrating, killing cold, and how his flesh seemed shriveled on his bones. His feet were completely numb.

"I didn't want to build a fire," he thought to Rose, shivering violently. "But I think I have to."

Rose had had hours to think about this. "There's a fallen tree fifty feet to your left. Lots of dried branches and pine needles. Can you work the lighter?"

"Got no choice."

Madrid fought the cold and his own half-frozen body as he collected enough wood for a fire. Moving sent a little warmth coursing through his veins, but the bitter wind tried to snatch it away.

By the time the fire was lit and burning, Madrid was so cold, he wanted to stand in it. He huddled as close to the flames as he dared, wrapped in every blanket he owned.

"I should have known," he berated himself. "Fire is survival on a night like this. Even the Cabal hunter is probably holed up somewhere."

"I hope so," Rose said from phase, watching the dancing flames cast light across the snow. "We just lit a beacon for anyone to see."

"It was fire or hypothermia," Madrid pointed out. "And thanks for waking me up. Without you, I wouldn't have."

Rose contemplated this as her Guardian thawed. She had saved his life. She'd actually been useful, for once. If he had died, she could have resurrected him, of course. But he would have resumed freezing to death all over again.

Maybe she cared more for her Guardian than she had thought.

Her introspection was cut short by the faint crunch of footsteps on snow - the patter of animal feet. "Incoming, from the northwest!"

The night was so quiet, she heard their enemies before they were within scan range. Madrid scrambled for his scout rifle, fumbling it in his cold hands. "This is a bad spot for this!"

"Climb the rocks!" Rose exclaimed. "You still have a minute!"

Madrid forced himself to jump on top of the first rock ledge, about five feet up. But his slow, cold muscles barely obeyed him. He staggered and leaned against the stone. "This is bad, Rose. Stay phased -"

A pack of war beasts burst out of the trees and charged into the camp, snarling and growling as they came. They were the size of large dogs, but their bodies were covered in red scales. Metal spikes had been augmented into their shoulders, and metal plates had been screwed into their jaws, giving them both helmets and extra cutting power. Most war beasts had a pair of pipes running across their backs, feeding a potent alien drug into their brains to make them fearless and savage. But these beasts had theirs cut away. They hunted without drugs, feasted on raw meat and fresh blood, and needed no other urging.

They had been following Madrid's trail for twenty hours and were wild for his blood. They spotted him and leaped for the low ledge, metal-rimmed jaws snapping.

Madrid forced himself to leap to a higher ledge, out of their reach. Away from the firelight, it was hard to see where to land, and the stone was icy. He stumbled, slipped, and barely caught himself. One leg slid into space. A war beast's jaws clamped on his boot.

Now Madrid was caught in a desperate struggle not to be pulled down into the leaping, slavering pack. He braced his elbows on the rocks and heaved, trying to tear free. His rifle lay tantalizingly close, but he couldn't get into position to shoot without falling.

"Madrid," Rose said, sounding tearful, "he's going to shoot you. I'm so sorry."

"Stay phased!" Madrid panted. "I don't care what happens, stay-"

A bullet punched through his back and pierced his heart.

Pain exploded through him. His muscles convulsed and went limp. He tried to grab at the rocks as the beast dragged him down, but his body refused to obey him. No breath, no pulse. His body had turned to jelly, useless and dead.

As consciousness slipped away, his last thought was a flicker of gladness that he didn't have to be awake when the beasts tore him apart.


	4. Regroup

Tel'ur stood with his rifle raised, aiming down the sights, as his beasts ripped at the Guardian's body. Any minute now, the ghost would appear and try to save him. Any second ...

But no ghost appeared. The beasts calmed and wandered away from the corpse, satiated, rubbing their faces in the snow and leaving red smears.

Tel'ur grunted, displeased. The Guardian had been speaking to someone before its death - probably commanding the ghost to stay hidden. Blast, Guardians were hard to kill.

Well, he'd make sure this particular scum had it hard. Tel'ur picked up the hunter's discarded pack and dug through it, taking all food and ammunition, along with a high quality knife. He tossed the rolled tent into the fire, then scattered the other useless items across the snow. Last of all, he retrieved the bloodstained cloak as a trophy.

There. Let the Guardian resurrect. He'd be much weaker the next time they met. Not even a ghost could heal hunger.

Tel'ur called his beasts, attached their leashes, and stalked away into the frigid night.

* * *

Rose watched in helpless horror as her Guardian was killed and eaten in less than ten minutes. She raged and cried and shouted curses, flying around and around the beasts while phased. But she was only a ghost, and could do nothing.

All she could do was find his spark in the ruins. It burned bright and defiant, awaiting her resurrection Light.

"Soon," she told it, circling like an angry mother bird with a fledgling. "Soon I'll bring you back, and we can kill this rhino and his filthy beasts."

She watched in rage as the alien looted Madrid's gear and destroyed what he didn't want. Then he departed with the war beasts.

Rose waited half an hour, watching the area on scan and listening, making sure their enemy wasn't lurking in the dark, waiting for her to show herself. The sky had begun to brighten in the east when she ducked behind a rock and cautiously phased into being.

The cold attempted to ice her components and freeze her shell together. Rose spun her segments to loosen them. Then she turned to her Guardian's remains.

She hadn't had to resurrect him in years. A wave of tenderness flowed through her, as well as a sense of purpose. Madrid was her Guardian, and now she could care for him as a ghost should. She opened her shell and expanded into a sphere of Light.

She regathered his data from their surroundings, drawing extra quanta to replace what had been torn away. Layer by layer, she rebuilt his body, and added a thin layer of woven clothing. His clothes and armor lay around him in tatters. If she could have regenerated his armor, she would have, but a thin under-layer was the best she could do.

Then she recalled his spark to life.

Madrid's eyes opened. He gazed up at Rose for a long moment, regaining his wits. Then he sat up and looked around. "They're gone?"

"Yes," Rose said, lingering near him, studying his face. "Are you all right?"

Madrid stood and looked at the trampled, bloody snow surrounding him. "Well. This will be something to tell the guys back in the Tower. Shot and eaten by war beasts. Can't imagine a lot of them have died that way." He met Rose's appraising gaze and stroked her flower-shaped shell with two fingers. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Thanks. For being there. I felt you watching over my spark."

"It was all I could do," she replied. "But oh, Guardian! I wish I could kill them myself for doing that to you! Look what they've done to your gear!"

He gathered his ruined armor and put on what he could. The pants were in several pieces, but he salvaged his belt and upper tunic with its blast plate. His boots were chewed, but wearable. With the bodysuit Rose had created for him, at least he was clothed, if not entirely warm.

His cloak was gone.

"The alien took it," Rose fumed. "Please kill him for me."

"Believe me," he said, deadly quiet, "I will."

Madrid retrieved his empty knapsack from where the alien had flung it into the bushes and gathered his scattered belongings. No food, no extra ammo. His rifle had a full magazine, but that was only eighteen bullets. He'd have to make them count.

Among the things he picked up was the half-finished ghost shell made of woven wire. He fingered it thoughtfully before adding it to his bag. He recovered the roll of wire and his tools, too.

The cold was biting, but it grew milder as the sun climbed into the sky. Madrid was much warmer since being resurrected, but hunger gnawed at him - a side effect of both the temperature and being brought back to life.

"Rose," he said, sitting on a rock in the sun, "what supplies do we have on our ship? Anything you could transmat here?"

Rose had returned to phase, but now she popped back into sight. "There's four emergency ration packs, but they're for long flights."

"Bring in three," Madrid said. "No point starving to death."

Their ship was hidden on a plateau miles away, disguised with brush and tree branches. All ghosts had the power to translate data from one point to another, especially if the other end had a transmitter, as their ship did. She flashed her beam at the snow in front of Madrid for a moment. Three ration packs phased into sight in a swirl of light particles.

As Madrid tore into the first one, Rose said, "There's no more rifle ammunition on the ship. But your rocket launcher is still in the munitions stash, along with ten extra rockets."

Madrid thought about the rocket launcher as he ate. He thought about ghost shells made of wire, and of Cabal hunters with war beasts.

"Tell Dustin and Zoe what happened," he said.

Rose did. Madrid finished eating, pulled out the shell and wire, and went to work on it, feeling much better.

Dustin's voice crackled out of Rose's external speaker. "That's two of us the bastard's killed, now. I vote we hunt him in our ships and shoot him from the air."

"We'd never find him," Madrid pointed out. "I have an idea. What weapons do you have?"

Dustin still carried Madrid's extra rifle, but he had a sniper rifle on his ship. It was too bulky to carry on a simple hunting trip.

"It should be enough," Madrid said. "If this hunter is so eager to kill us, I'm going to let him. But you and Rose will finish him off."

"Your ghost?" Dustin laughed. "Ghosts can't fight."

Madrid attached a long length of wire to the homemade shell. "Mine can."

* * *

Tel'ur knew that once the Guardian resurrected, he would follow his trail, seeking revenge. Humans and Cabal had that in common in their psychological make-up. He headed for the nearest land trap - one of his favorites.

A few miles up the valley, a river canyon wound through the hills, its river seeking to join the frozen lake. The canyon was narrow, with steep, jagged limestone walls that crumbled when a person tried to climb them. It was also a little too high for a Guardian to jump, even with their Light powers.

However, a war beast could leap down into the canyon with few ill effects.

First, Tel'ur laid a false trail up the canyon floor, taking care to leave clear footprints in the snow. Then he walked backward over his own trail, left the canyon, and climbed a thin thread of rock that opened into the upper edge of the canyon.

The false trail would lure the Guardian, perhaps both of them, into the canyon. Then he would fire upon them from cover. Once they were wounded, he'd release the beasts. If either of their ghosts appeared, he'd put a bullet through its core.

He commanded his beasts to lie down in the brush. Then he positioned himself behind a tree and waited.

* * *

Madrid didn't set out at once. He sat on the rock in his ruined camp and twisted wire, doubling it back on itself for extra strength. The segments of a ghost shell took shape on the rock beside him.

Rose appeared often to let him size the shell against her existing one. She kept quiet so as not to break his concentration, but agitation radiated from her. Whether in phase or out, she flew around and around her Guardian, scanning for enemies.

His violent death was permanently burned into her memory. Madrid, her hunter who had only died four times in his hundred and eighty-three years as a Guardian ... had been murdered by a single alien and a pack of war beasts.

She had grown passive and sad, being unable to heal or help him in any way. She'd watched other ghosts express their devotion to their Guardians. It had always left her baffled and a little jealous. Maybe that's what Zoe had meant about their Light being cold. It wasn't just their Light - it was their whole relationship.

Watching her Guardian freezing to death, and then be shot and mangled, had changed Rose. Her passive shyness had fallen away, replaced by the furious, passionate, sometimes irrational devotion she'd admired in other ghosts. She'd felt the bullet pierce his heart. She'd felt the life drain from his limbs, felt his confusion and frustration as he died. And then she'd had to stand by and watch the war beasts devour him. If Rose had been human, she would have been kicking trees and throwing rocks in a continuous tantrum. But, being a ghost, her aggression had little outlet, besides circling and scanning.

Madrid summoned her and measured his wire frame against her shell.

"It needs spikes," she told him. "I wish you'd made it out of barbed wire."

Madrid smiled. "My little Rose is feeling thorny?"

She gazed at him, not sure whether to laugh or not. His blue skin was grayish with weariness, and shadows gathered under his eyes. Still, his smile held the cheerful tenderness he'd always showed her - only to her.

"He killed you," she said softly. "He let his dogs eat you while he took your things. I don't know if I'll ever recover from that, love."

Madrid raised an eyebrow. "It's been a long time since you called me love."

"I know," Rose said, looking down. "But I lost you ... even if it was only for a while. When your Guardian is lying there, dead, you realize how much they meant to you."

Madrid watched her, his smile fading. He held one hand under her, guiding her closer. "It doesn't sound like you're unhappy anymore."

"I wouldn't say I'm happy," Rose said, gazing into his yellow eyes, barely glowing in the strong light. "But I care. I didn't care much about anything anymore. Then you died like that, and I found out ... I actually do care. A lot. I want that alien and his beasts dead and burned. I'd kill him myself, if I could."

"Well then." Madrid lifted the segments of the new shell. "Let's see if this fits."

Rose submitted to having her pretty flower shell unscrewed and removed, and the rough, unpainted wire one attached in its place. It did have a certain charm, she thought, looking at it. She'd look like flying jewelry.

"Won't it bend out of shape?" she asked.

"Maybe," Madrid said. "That's not the point."

"What is it, then?" Rose asked, bewildered.

"This." Madrid looped an extra wire through her bottom-most segment. He attached the other end to a twig he stuck in the snow. "Yank the wire hard enough to knock the twig over."

Rose whipped backward, giving the wire a sharp tug. The twig snapped.

Madrid grinned. "That's how you'll do it."

Rose gazed at the wire and twig, mystified. "What will I do?"

"Pull the trigger on the rocket launcher."

Rose didn't answer at once. She gazed at the twig, then her Guardian, then at the twig again.

Finally she said, "I'll aim very carefully."


	5. Trap

As Madrid tracked the alien northwestward, Dustin spoke through their ghosts' connection. "The Cabal Hunter went up a little ravine. I can see his tracks, but I don't see him. Looks like an ambush."

"Don't follow," Madrid replied. "Get to a high point where you can see down the ravine. I'm going to set a trap and use myself as bait. I need you to snipe the dogs. Without them, he's one more alien for us to pick off. If I go down, kill him. If he escapes you, he'll hit my trap."

"Right," Dustin replied. "I'll have Zoe ping you once we're in position."

Madrid rehearsed the plan in his mind as he walked. Any number of things could go wrong. He had to stay as flexible as possible. The biggest flaw in his plan was Rose, who had to remain exposed long enough to fire the rocket launcher. If the alien noticed her, he could pick her off from a distance.

He voiced this concern to her. Rose replied from phase, "I've been thinking about that, too. Would it be possible to hide me in a tree? I'd have cover, but I'd be able to see."

This was a good idea. Madrid relaxed a little. "We'll investigate trees once we're close enough. I like your tactical planning, Rosie."

"I've learned from the best," she replied.

An hour later, the trampled trail in the snow turned toward a spot where two mountain spurs met. Here was the mouth of a ravine or small canyon like a great V. A frozen stream ran out, its ice gleaming black as the mild sun warmed the afternoon. The alien tracks led straight into the canyon.

Madrid paced from side to side, gazing down the canyon. It curved sharply to the left about a hundred feet in, blocking the sight line from the mouth. Above the canyon walls, trees marched up the mountainsides, providing cover for an ambush.

He studied the tracks in the snow, then the terrain. "Rose, if you were a hunter, where would you wait for prey? Down in the canyon, or up on the wall?"

Rose scanned, but picked up no hostiles within range. "If he's down in the canyon, he'll have to face you on even footing. Whereas up on the wall, he'd have you on a platter."

"Right." Madrid backed up, studying the canyon walls. The right hand side was a sheer cliff with a fifty-degree slope above that. The left-hand side was a more gradual slope, with several handy ledges.

"We want to watch that side," Madrid said softly. "Let's find a good tree."

He let Rose fly into several trees until she found a pine with branches that suited her. Madrid climbed into it and set the rocket launcher across two branches. Then he attached a wire from the trigger to Rose's shell.

"Remember," he told her as he loaded a rocket, "you only have one shot. And if you phase, it will unhook the trigger wire. Try not to phase until after you fire. Whether you hit or not, keep yourself safe. All right?"

"Yes, Guardian," Rose said so quietly he barely heard her.

They gazed at each other for a moment in silence. The gravity of the situation weighed on them - they might both die in the next fifteen minutes.

Rose flew to Madrid's face and leaned her shell against his cheek, closing her eye. His hand cupped around her, exchanging a cross between a hug and a kiss.

"If we die," Rose whispered, "our sparks will go to the Traveler together."

Madrid smiled. "I won't let that happen."

"Please, Madrid," she murmured, "don't die again. Not like last time. My heart can't take it."

"Killing the dogs is priority," Madrid replied. "But I might die. That's part of the plan."

Rose whimpered and pressed herself against his cheek again. "My poor Guardian."

He stroked her wire shell. "Keep yourself safe, and it'll only be temporary."

As they sat there, Zoe's ping sounded over Rose's speaker. Dustin was in position.

"It's time," Madrid said, releasing his ghost.

Rose hid herself behind the tree's trunk and gave Madrid a nod.

Madrid jumped down from the tree, lifted his rifle, and set off down the ravine.

* * *

Tel'ur watched the tattered Guardian investigate the canyon mouth. The war beasts sniffed the air and growled, but he commanded them to remain silent. They were well trained, and obeyed, crouching in the brush on their bellies.

The Guardian was suspicious of the canyon and the tracks. He examined the mountainsides and canyon walls with thoroughness that worried Tel'ur. Then the Guardian retreated, climbed a tree, and sat there for a while.

Tel'ur was mystified. If the Guardian was setting a counter-trap, it was a poor one. Tel'ur had seen the tree and now knew which one to avoid. Besides, where was the second Guardian? He kept a close watch on the other end of the canyon and the mountainsides, but nothing stirred. Either they had cooked up a plan so good that Tel'ur couldn't see it, or one Guardian had given up. The tattered Guardian was certainly behaving strangely.

Now the tattered Guardian dropped from the tree. Rifle at the ready, he made his way into the ravine, following the trampled snow and watching the walls.

Tel'ur lifted his rifle and sighted at the Guardian's left leg. Killing him instantly was no good - he wanted the ghost. Last time, he had killed the Guardian too quickly. Of course the ghost wouldn't revive him until danger was gone. But forcing it to heal him ... that worked sometimes, too.

Tel'ur squeezed the trigger. The crack of the gunshot echoed off the mountainsides. The Guardian collapsed, holding his leg, but he pivoted on the ground, raising his rifle. Tel'ur had given away his position.

"Attack," Tel'ur told his war beasts, releasing their leashes.

The beasts had been waiting for this. They hurled themselves off the cliff, heedless of the thirty-foot drop, growling and snapping, eager for prey.

The wounded Guardian shot one beast through the eye as it fell. A second shot echoed down the canyon, and a second beast fell to the snow. Then the wounded Guardian drew his knife and took on the remaining three beasts. He managed to open the throat of one, which wallowed and died, the metal blades on its back slicing both its companions and the Guardian.

The remaining two war beasts sprang upon the Guardian, heedless of his knife, seeking his throat. The Guardian shielded himself with one arm. They sank their teeth into it, bearing down until the bone snapped. The Guardian buried his knife in the side of one beast's head in retaliation. Then another shot echoed, and the last beast fell.

Tel'ur watched in disbelief as his entire pack died in a single fight. Blast Guardians to the heart of the inferno. Ghaul should have destroyed this system while he had the chance.

The Guardian struggled to lift his rifle, but his broken arm refused to cooperate. Teeth bared in a grimace of pain, he shouted a challenge at Tel'ur in the strange human tongue.

He couldn't see Tel'ur, of course. Tel'ur had remained hidden in the brush, firing from cover. The second Guardian must be sniping from somewhere, because who had fired that last shot? Certainly not the tattered Guardian. Likely he was perched on the opposite ridge, hidden in the brush, damn him.

Also, no ghost appeared. Either it was too smart to attempt to heal its Guardian ...

... or the sneaky bastard had hidden his ghost in that tree.

Tel'ur gazed down the canyon at the tree in question. Had something glinted among the branches? Of course it had. What a clever trick. But not clever enough.

Casually, Tel'ur put a bullet through the tattered Guardian's chest, dropping him to the canyon floor. Revenge for the loss of irreplaceable war beasts. Then he crept through the brush and trees, unsure of the sniper's position, headed for that pine at the end of the canyon.

* * *

Rose watched in anguished silence as Madrid took wound after wound, first from a bullet, then from a desperate ground struggle with the war beasts. She felt the bullet tear through his thigh. She felt the war beast blades, and the vicious jaws as they crushed his arm. Each time, she nearly pulled the trigger on the rocket launcher. But no - she only had one shot. And it would kill Madrid. If she killed her own Guardian, even accidentally, she'd carry the shame and guilt forever.

All the war beasts were dead, now, thanks to Madrid's knife work and Dustin's precision sniping. But the alien hunter still shot Madrid a final time. Rose felt it like a bullet in her own core. It didn't hit his heart this time, but it punched through his right lung and out his back. His distress and agony washed through her as he collapsed.

Rose stifled a scream. If only she could heal him, end the pain, mend the damage. But no, she had to fire the rocket launcher. She was the trap.

Movement on the canyon rim. The broad, bulky shape of the alien hunter crept toward her, keeping trees between himself and Dustin. His helmeted face was fixed on Rose's position.

He knew where she was. Traveler's Light, how did he know? She ducked behind the tree trunk, peeking out. He wasn't aiming at her, only coming toward her. He must not be able to see her yet.

He'd made her Guardian suffer.

Madrid's pain pounding in her core, Rose flew forward and nudged the rocket launcher's barrel three inches to the left. Now it covered the alien directly. Rose ducked behind it, waiting, burning with hate.

The alien emerged from the canyon, darted behind a tree to shield himself from Dustin, and lifted a pair of field glasses to study her tree.

Rose waited.

The alien lowered the glasses and raised his rifle, aiming directly at her.

Rose yanked the trigger wire.

Here the biggest flaw in the plan came into effect, one that neither Rose nor Madrid had foreseen.

The launcher itself merely rested on two branches, untethered. As it fired, the back blast of the rocket kicked it backward. It punched into Rose like a battering ram. Ghost and launcher fell out of the tree and crashed into the snow together.

* * *

Tel'ur saw the ghost and the rocket launcher in the tree, and he laughed. What foolish Guardian left the source of his immortality in such a precarious spot? The ghost was tied to the rocket launcher, even.

Chuckling, he raised his rifle and drew a bead on the tiny robot.

The ghost jerked backward. The rocket flashed to life.

For a second, Tel'ur glimpsed the rocket flying at his face. His chuckle died.

An instant later, so did he.


	6. Drift

Madrid lay in the snow, drifting in and out of consciousness. He heard the rocket's explosion, saw the flash of orange light, saw the Cabal hunter blown backward into a boulder and hit the ground, dead. He cheered a little, in his head. "Rose," he tried to whisper. "Rose, I need you."

But no Rose appeared.

He drifted, dreaming he was still walking endlessly through the snow. Rose's voice echoed in the distance. Where had she gone? He had to find her. Her Light had turned cold.

"Rose," he whispered, waking up. He still lay there on the canyon floor, surrounded by stinking war beast corpses. His own blood melted the snow beneath him. He struggled to draw a breath. "Rosie."

It seemed like he was back in camp, weaving a wire shell for her. But the wires kept untwisting, and he struggled with them.

"We made a mistake," Rose said from nearby.

"What mistake is that?" He looked up and saw her shell was broken, hanging off her core.

"I'm dead," she told him. "I'm sorry, Guardian."

He still lay in the snow, struggling to breathe, somehow still alive. Was she dead? Or had he dreamed it? He couldn't see her tree from the ground. He levered himself upright with his good arm.

The rocket launcher had fallen out of the tree. The blast back. Dear Traveler, he'd forgotten the blast back of the rockets. Why hadn't he anchored the launcher? Rose hadn't come to him, which meant ...

He let himself fall back into the red snow, tears stinging his eyes, coughing painfully. "I'm sorry," he tried to say, his bloody lips forming the words. "Rose, I'm so sorry."

He drifted again. He thought he got up, walked to the tree, and found her crushed shape in the snow. Her eye was shattered and dark. He held her and wept.

"Don't cry, Madrid," she whispered in his ear. "You never needed me, anyway. You're too good."

"I've always needed you," he told her through his tears. "I tried to spare you from burning your own Light all the time."

She laughed. "Light doesn't burn. The more I give, the brighter it grows."

"Come back," he begged. "Don't leave me, not now."

"The Traveler is calling me," she said sadly. "I'm dead."

"Wait just a little longer? Please?"

She didn't answer.

"Please," he whispered, waking up in the snow again. "Please."

Dustin knelt beside him now, his ghost Zoe gazing down at him. Madrid stared at them, not sure if he was still dreaming. Then Zoe opened her shell and poured healing Light into him. The lung mended and he was able to draw a breath. His crushed arm straightened as she rebuilt the bone. The slashes from the blades sealed over, and the wound in his thigh closed and healed. Then she restored the blood he had lost.

Dustin offered him a hand. "You took a real beating, there. Good job with the remote rocket launch. That was slick. How'd you do it?"

Madrid couldn't answer. He sprang to his feet and dashed to the tree. Had the dreams been real? Was Rose really dead?

He found her beneath the rocket launcher, mostly buried in the snow by its weight. She was still tethered by the wire. Her shell was crushed nearly flat. But unlike his dream, her eye wasn't shattered. It merely cycled colors and pixels, like a damaged computer.

Maybe there was still a chance.

Madrid unhooked the tether and lifted her out of the snow, holding back a cry of grief. As Dustin and Zoe approached, Madrid turned toward them, holding out Rose. "Can you heal her?"

Zoe flew up and scanned Rose closely. As she worked, Dustin whistled. "You rigged your ghost to a rocket launcher? Are you insane or only stupid?"

"Right now, I may be a severed Guardian," Madrid said.

"She's pretty far gone," Zoe said. "But then, so was I." She swept Rose's core with a healing beam. "Come on, girl, you're stronger than this. Don't go to the Traveler yet."

The flickering colors in Rose's eye died down, reforming into a blue pupil. But she simply stared, unfocused on anything.

"Talk to her," Zoe said. "Only your voice can bring her back, now."

Dustin prudently walked off to examine the alien's body. Zoe went with him, looking back every few feet.

"Rosie," Madrid whispered to the ghost in his cupped hands. "Rosie, please, come back. Your spark's not gone. Look, we won. You were magnificent."

No response.

He talked to her for the next hour. Rose didn't respond.

Dustin gave them space, going through the pack the alien had left in the trees. He found both their stolen hunters' cloaks, neatly rolled up. He also found four others. He returned Madrid's. After a little conversation, they decided to return to the Last City. If anyone could help Rose, it would be the mechanics there.

His heart heavy, Madrid set out with Dustin to trek the seven miles back to their ships. He made a sling out of a scarf and tucked Rose into it, carrying her next to his heart.

Being shot and mauled wasn't nearly as painful as holding his ghost and knowing with absolute clarity that his choices had harmed her.

* * *

 

On her way to the Traveler, Rose hesitated.

Her beloved Guardian was calling her. He needed her. The wisp of light that was Rose took her eye off the brilliant Light of the Traveler and looked back. Where was Madrid? How could she go back? All around her was formless gray. She reversed directions and flew into the void, calling, "Guardian? Where are you?"

That was how she came face to face with the Ahamkara.

It hung there in the void, a giant winged lizard, its jaws lined with teeth like knives. A pair of tusks protruded from its mouth on either side, brutal and dangerous. Its eyes glowed blank white.

Rose halted with a gasp, aware of how fragile and small she was. "An Ahamkara? But you're extinct!"

"I am neither living nor dead," said the monster. "As are you."

"I'm trying to go back," Rose said. "My Guardian is hurt."

The white eyes narrowed. "You left him. Your Light is cold."

"Not anymore!" Rose protested. "I love him now. He needs me, even when I think he doesn't."

The monster's wings swirled, driving it closer to her. In that gray, formless place, the wings weren't for flight as much as to make the monster impressive. Rose backed away from those lethal tusks.

"Your Guardian killed you," the monster said. "I see the truth in your mind."

"No!" Rose exclaimed. "It was an accident. I was too close to the rocket."

"Cold Light and killed by her own Guardian," the Ahamkara said, its voice a bass rumble. "You should return to your Traveler while you still can, little spark. Your life was pointless. Your Guardian doesn't need you."

Rose quailed, instinctively drawing herself together. This had been her own subconscious thought for so many years, and the Ahamkara had read it at a glance.

But she had resurrected Madrid after the war beasts killed him ... and even now, he was grievously injured, calling for her without words, his Light flagging.

Her spark flared up, blue-white and hot as the heart of the sun. The Ahamkara flinched backward, closing its eyes.

"My Light was once cold, but no longer!" she shouted at the monster. "Let me pass! And if you don't, I'll slay you with my own Light!"

The threat was almost comical, coming from a tiny point of light, facing the huge dragon. But in that place between life and death, her fervent, passionate belief in her own strength and her Guardian was a true threat to the Ahamkara.

The monster shifted sideways, revealing a spot of daylight in the gray void. "Go, little spark. See to it your Light does not chill again, or I'll be waiting."

* * *

 

Rose awoke to the sensation of being carried. Madrid's spark was close by, and she was snuggled into his warm scarf. His hand steadied her on the outside of the scarf as he strode along.

He was healed, she sensed at once. Zoe must have done it. Whole, healthy, and strong, he walked swiftly.

They had won. Rose basked in the knowledge as she enjoyed such comfort. She had destroyed the vile alien hunter who had twice devastated her Guardian.

But now ... why was she wrapped so carefully in his scarf? He must think she was dead. Well, she almost had been. Poor Madrid.

"Guardian?" she said softly. She moved against his hand. "Madrid?"

He halted and opened the scarf. She blinked up at him and flew into the air, a little unsteadily. Her repulsors were still faulty.

"Rose," Madrid breathed, cupping a hand beneath her. "You've been out for hours. Are you all right?"

"I had weird dreams," she said. "I was dying, but I tried to come back, and there was a dead Ahamkara ... it was weird." She flew up and nestled against his cheek. "My Light's not cold anymore."

"It should be," Madrid choked, wrapping his hands around her. "I killed you, Rosie. I didn't secure the launcher. I'm so sorry."

"I forgive you," she whispered. "Besides, I killed the murdering bastard."

Hearing his ghost use such language made Madrid laugh. "That you did. Dustin and I got our cloaks back, too. We're headed to our ships. I think that's enough patrolling for now."

He walked on, the two chattering to each other, so happy to be reunited. Rose decided she liked being carried, so he let her snuggle into his scarf again, sighing about spoiled ghosts.

"You've always spoiled me," she replied. "But now, I'm going to enjoy it."

"I'll have to let myself take damage in battle," he told her. "Just so you can heal me."

"But not from war beasts," Rose said with a shudder. "Never those."

"Never those," he agreed. "The occasional bullet, maybe. Something easy."

"It doesn't have to be easy, love," Rose told him. "I can heal anything. And I like to."

He smiled down at her. "It's been a long time since you've been any fun."

She blinked up at him, arranging her segments in the ghost approximation of a smile. "It's been a long time since I loved you."

Madrid lifted Rose in both hands, and if he kissed his ghost, the scarf hid it. When he put her down, her eye blushed pink for several minutes.

"No," she whispered. "Our Light's certainly not cold anymore."

The end


End file.
